


in case i fall for you

by Antigone_Sycamore



Series: Steel [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Chakotay's POV, Episode Related, Episode: s03e01 Basics Part 2, Episode: s03e25 Worst Case Scenario, Episode: s05e17 The Disease, Episode: s05e23 11:59, Episode: s06e21 Live Fast and Prosper, Episode: s06e25 The Haunting of Deck Twelve, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Janeway's POV, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, One Shot, Season 1, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigone_Sycamore/pseuds/Antigone_Sycamore
Summary: Have you ever been in love, Captain?Little missing moments form different episodes and different seasons.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Series: Steel [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756198
Comments: 40
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have you guys seen the episode "The Disease"? The building relationship between Harry Kim and Tal feels way too real for this quirky sci-fi show that usually neither cares about coherency nor consistency. Go watch it! It is really sweet and feels refreshingly true to itself without being too cheesy. As so often with Star Trek, beneath its quirkiness, it ponders a real question.
> 
> HUGE _THANK YOU_ to the wonderful wonderful _wonderful_ [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75)!!! You made this so much better!

***

The Disease

***

She doesn’t have time to process her ensign’s inappropriate line of questioning, nor to ponder its implication.

_Have you ever been in love, Captain?_

She could tell from the moment she laid eyes on him in her ready room that this wasn’t just a fling; that Harry Kim had not thrown caution and with it protocol to the wind because he’d been too keyed up to let an opportunity pass.

In fact, she’d seen the unmistakable look of confusion mixed with something akin to shocked premonition pass over the young man’s face when they’d first beamed aboard the Varro vessel. She’s been in love before! She isn’t that jaded not to know exactly what it looks like.

Although, the face his rhetorical albeit highly inappropriate line of questioning summons before her mind’s eye isn’t the by now painfully faded lines of the man she was engaged to marry, nor are they the even more distant blurry lines of her first fiancé – both men she’d – for all intents and purposes – loved deeply.

But because memory is a tricky thing and love is an even trickier one, the face her mind very much unsurprisingly conjures up, without her intent or conscious thought but with staggering clarity instead, is the one of the man sitting right outside her ready room. She’d be able to draw the familiar black lines of his tattoo from memory alone.

And isn’t that a momentous plot twist, if ever there was one?

_Did your throat ever swell when you realized it was over?_

She’s loved and she’s lost. Dearly and painfully every time. She recognizes the familiar way her heart clenches inside her chest at Harry Kim’s passionate plea.

But Janeway doesn’t have time to ponder the implications of his desperate words, because a tremor runs through the whole ship, throwing both of them off their feet.

The irony isn’t lost on her, though. Who is she to tell him to control his love? To quench it until it is nothing more but a faded image? Janeway has always prided herself in her ability to lead by example – but who is she now to tell him to quit something she herself has so plainly failed to control?

***

She needs to make amends – to both of them. The men around her, wearing their hearts on their very sleeves, like being in love isn’t always going to be an excruciatingly painful experience.

She falters, suddenly, unintentionally, right across from Chakotay’s carefully neutral face. She’s very much deliberately stopped counting how many times they’ve had dinner this month. It seems practical at times. Discussing ship matters over candlelight. A pretense of efficiency when the lines have all become so very blurry.

“I talked to Harry Kim today,” she solemnly says, her earlier conversation with the ensign still very much at the forefront of her mind. It is not like she hasn’t noticed before that he’s changed; like she hasn’t witnessed him grow from a cautious young ensign into the admirable officer and man who’s stood his ground in the face of danger by her side as diligently and as resiliently as the rest of them.

She just hadn’t realized before how brave he’d been. How much she’s asked of him. Of all of them.

Chakotay shifts in his seat, suddenly pensive.

“You’ve changed your mind about the reprimand?”

“I haven’t.” She clenches her fingers around the steaming mug of coffee in her hand; it is late but the coffee helps her relax. “The reprimand still stands. He disobeyed orders, put himself in danger and he violated protocol.”

She pauses and lets her head fall to the back of the chair, eyes shifting towards the ceiling as she tries to sort through the complicated mix of emotions the ensign’s hardship has evoked in her. She’s lost Mark, she lost Justin before that – she was certain she’d never be able to fall in love again after his death. Falling in love with Justin had been like an epiphany. She’d almost instantly known she was interested in him – the persistent fluttering in her stomach an unmistakable telltale sign of her impending bittersweet agony. Falling in love with Mark had been a much more gradual shift. They’d been friends for so long that one day the transition seemed almost inevitable.

But falling in love with _Chakotay_ –

That’s somethings she’s very rarely allowed herself to ponder. Even in the few moments they’ve pushed the boundaries way beyond their limit. _Slightly shaking fingers roaming across tanned skin._

Chakotay, on the other hand, clearly has – has even told her as much more than once. _Ancient legends and an unwavering presence beside her. A bathtub beneath distant, unfamiliar stars. Chakotay’s large hands gently pressing along the sore muscles of her shoulders._ She cannot remember a time when he wasn’t a permanent fixture in her life, a stoic, unwavering presence to match her own – if only slightly less fierce, but all the more solid instead.

“But I’ve come to realize, I cannot order someone to stop being in love.”

She tears her eyes from the gray and silver plating of her quarters’ ceiling that holds no answers to her many questions and fixes them on her first officer instead.

She catches him staring at her. He doesn’t avert his gaze but stands his ground. Her fingers itch to run across the black lines on his forehead and she clenches them tighter around her coffee mug.

If he’s surprised by her change of heart, he doesn’t show it, candlelight dancing evenly over the painfully familiar lines of his face. She’s been reckless today already, by not calling for lights when he entered her quarters, relishing the complicated intimacy the half-light has always allowed between the two of them.

“Nor can I order them to treat their love like it’s a disease.”

Chakotay shifts in his seat again, eyebrows drawn into a slight frown, but his eyes never leave her face. “Because you wouldn’t,” he concludes, and it frightens her sometimes, how he should be able to read her so easily, when she’s gone to such great lengths to keep it all bottled up.

She cannot stop the painful clenching of her heart, cannot stop the tight constricting feeling from forming in her chest all the way up to her throat. _Have you ever been in love, Captain?_ The tears spring to her eyes of their own volition, faster and more forcefully than they have in a very long time.

Now, she’s managed to surprise him after all. A look of sudden shock mixed with the ever-present concern flickers across his face in the darkness.

Kathryn sits, paralyzed by the sudden intensity of her emotion, as he slowly rises to his feet and rounds the table between them. He peels the coffee mug from her hands, gentle fingers brushing along her skin as she defiantly tries to will the tears away.

_If you could have just taken a hypospray to make yourself stop loving him so that it didn’t hurt so much when you were away from him, would you have done that?_

No. _No_ , she wouldn’t have done that. She’s sure as hell tried to cut the heavy feelings from her heart, tried to ignore the persistent longing for his touch, the blazing, unrelenting feelings of lust and abandon she so often failed to restrain in herself. Love isn’t a disease that can be cured with a hypospray. But it isn’t a choice either.

Falling in love with Chakotay has been like fighting. Like trying to cut out a part of herself.

She forces herself to lift her eyes to his then. Chakotay meets her gaze willingly, brown eyes as soft and as unguarded in her presence as ever. He’s never even once tried to hide the true nature of his feelings. Instead, he’s stood by her side through it all. Unfaltering and true to his every word, every concealed promise; making her needs his first priority, doing whatever he could to lighten her burden.

It is no different now, as he slowly pulls her to her feet, brushes his thumb across her cheek to wipe away her tears.

“Neither would I,” he tells her and there is little she can do when all the boundaries have already dissolved. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn Janeway is my spirit animal. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around her character, though. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title inspired by the song ‘In case I fall for you’ by Black Sea Dahu


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay reflects on their joint history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the events and mostly the original dialogue of the season 5 episode _11:59_.
> 
> Beta-ed by the wonderful, _wonderful_ [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75)! I'm so grateful to you! THANK YOU!!! I love this story even more now!

***

11:59

***

He catches her right at the top of her first coffee high of the day.

He holds up a PADD. “Ship’s status report.”

Kathryn raises a finger in turn. “Let me guess. The holographic engineer is having problems with her program. Neelix, the Cardassian cook, is low on supplies. Seven of Twelve is regenerating and Captain Chakotay is doing just fine.”

Chakotay frowns at her in confusion, but then can’t help the smile from spreading across his face. Amid the lastest ship-wide crazes of yoyos and ping-pong (both of which are courtesy of Tom Paris, of course), trading stories about their ancestors has always been a favorite pastime among the crew. It tethers them all back to their home, their origin and their families; especially out here in the Delta Quadrant, where so little else authority on who they are can be cited.

It certainly is one of Kathryn’s favorite pastimes. She loves stories, loves to tell them as much as to hear them. Chakotay thinks, over the years, he’s heard the tales of the intrepid Shannon O’Donnel at least a dozen times; and she tells it differently every time, too, suggesting that not even _Voyager’s_ captain is immune to romanticizing the past.

Kathryn leans back in her chair. “Just wondering how they'll piece together our lives a few hundred years from now.” 

“Depends on how big the pieces are.”

There is no doubt about it. Kathryn Janeway has already left her dent in the very fabric of time. And he’s certain they haven’t seen the last of her. But Chakotay knows that history rarely allows for an unbiased account of one's origin. Let alone of the present.

“A PADD here, a captain’s log there, maybe a couple of holodeck programs. It won’t be as much to go on as we might think.” She holds up a PADD as if to read from it, but rambles on from memory nonetheless. “I’ve gone through dozens of histories written about twenty-first-century Earth, all of them biased in one way or another. The Vulcans describe First Contact with a savagely illogical race. Ferengi talk about Wall Street as if it were holy ground. The Bolians express dismay at the low quality of human plumbing. And human historians? Exact same story. Every culture saw it a different way.”

This is a peculiar notion to Chakotay. It is not that he doesn’t understand the sentiment; how our point of origin relates us to our present, to parts of our identity, even to our future. But the reflection of our past – as individuals as well as a species – does not necessarily tell us how to attribute value to our present, nor to our future. Neither from an archeological point of view, nor from a personal one.

But the captain and he are very different in that respect.

While Kathryn has been chasing the future for most of her life, Chakotay has long since come to realize that truly and consciously living in the present, embracing it for what it is, instead of constantly fretting about a past we cannot change or a future we know nothing about, is one of the hardest things to do. But the present –

The present, the actual _here and now_ , is something he has had to call her attention to over the years. What to do about the present? One hundred and forty-eight lives put on hold while those of their friends and families continue without them. Two lives put on hold while their crew’s impossible journey continues without them.

_What to do about the present?_

It has been an ongoing issue of debate between the two of them as well. He isn’t in favor of sacrificing the present for a future that could be put on hold for 76 years. Protocol be damned. As painful as is it might have been to do, Chakotay accepted this strange fate that life has dealt him.

Kathryn Janeway, on the other hand, has rarely ever accepted anything that life has dealt her.

“So I go back to the raw material,” she says, early morning coffee-induced buzz in full effect, “birth certificates; death certificates; marriage certificates; census surveys; voter registration forms; housing records; medical, employment, court records. It’s all fragmented and incomplete.”

Granted, his head would be swirling, too. “So –” he interrupts her diatribe while he can to get a word in edgewise, “– did she exist?”

Kathryn nods, suddenly sad.

“Her name was Shannon O’Donnel,” she says, disappointment obvious right beneath the surface. “She did train to be an astronaut, but she didn’t finish. She was an engineer, but never worked on the Mars missions.”

Smoothing her hands along her tights, she looks so miserable, it may just break his heart. And although he doesn’t understand how she can be so sad about something that happened such a long time ago, he could never leave her hanging like this.

“Did she work on the Millennium Gate?”

“Only as a consultant.”

He tries to piece together his very own fragmented version of Shannon O’Donnel’s life. The bits and pieces and the detours Kathryn has left him with over the years. “What about all the opposition you spoke of? You said she fought to get the project under way.”

But he actually makes it worse because, somehow, right beneath the surface of her cool and unfazed veneer, Kathryn Janeway carries strength and sadness in equal measure. At times these spill through the sharp angles of her beautiful face and he is always, always taken aback by how she is not afraid to show either of these sides of herself. She has not hidden her tenacity over the years, but neither has she hidden her tears.

“There was no opposition,” she tells him, disappointment still evident in every fiber of her being. “In fact, the Millennium Gate was greeted with open arms by the local population. Except for one man.”

She reaches out, turns her computer screen his way and he catches the headline of what looks like an age-old newspaper article: Book store to stay open.

“Henry Janeway,” he says and the name feels strange and familiar on his lips at the same time. It’s funny in a way. How all of them have had to reclaim their personal histories out here. Reduced to ranks and functions by the isolation and the vastness of the Delta Quadrant. Starfleet and Maquis, captain and commander, enemy and friend, when in reality, they are daughters and sons, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives. _People_. Ordinary and exceptional all at once. Very much like Shannon O’Donnel and Henry Janeway.

“She married him,” Kathryn says, tone already lighter, “and changed her name. But she certainly never changed history.”

He can’t quite believe that, if her descendant’s stubborn persistence is any indication.

“Don't be too hard on her. She may not have known she was supposed to live up to your expectations.”

“Oh, I’ll get over it,” Kathryn says, voice still laced with sadness, and he doesn’t quite believe that either. But then she blinks up at him, long dark lashes sweeping across pale cheeks, suddenly doe-eyed and almost sheepish. A far cry from their unfazed stubborn captain.

“The question is, when we get back to Earth, how will I break the news to Aunt Martha?”

And Chakotay cannot stop the laugh that bubbles up from deep within, nor the gratitude that floods him when he looks at her. She’s become his point of reference that defines his past, his future and his present.

He cannot stop the words from tumbling over his lips either, the plain and simple truth and it feels like he’s never had any real claim to the privacy of the sentiment in the first place.

“For what it’s worth, Kathryn,” he evenly says, “not all lasting impressions are of historical impact. Sometimes we change only one life, not all of history.”

And if he had any doubt that she caught on to the double meaning of his words, this would be allayed by Kathryn settling back in her chair again and flashing him a smile, so brilliant and so bright – very much like the very first time he made her cry. Another commemoration of the past, ancient legends and family histories scattered about the universe, their fate inexplicably intertwined in their joint history.

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need to use your shower,” she announces without precedent or explanation when he answeres his door a little past 0500 hours.
> 
> Missing scene 6x21 - "Live Fast and Prosper".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my very firm head canon that these two had some sort of on-again-off-again friends with benefits kind of relationship while onboard Voyager. Like, I'm in my thirties now. I happened to know that you do not just _never_ act on this kind of mutual attraction while in a confined space AND stranded 30.000 lightyears across the galaxy. That is just not how humans work. At one point, it's going to escalate and escalate it did.
> 
> It also is my head canon that Kathryn took advantage of it much more frequently than he did.

***

Live Fast and Prosper

***

“I need to use your shower,” she announces without precedent or explanation when he answers his door a little past 0500 hours.

Chakotay blinks, his sleepy brain waking up an extra 10 percent at her unusual request. And her attire. She’s wrapped in a silky white bathrobe, hair slightly tousled, lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. He tries to think of an appropriate response, but Kathryn, bearing a steaming cup of coffee like a shield, has already brushed past him.

She pads across his living-room floor on bare feet, making a beeline for his bedroom and disappears before he can get a word in edgewise.

Chakotay is left standing in the middle of his living room, idly wondering if he’s still asleep and has just dreamt the whole thing. But then he hears the soft vibrating hum of the sonic shower being turned on and he runs a tired hand across his face in a futile attempt to disperse the image of a naked Kathryn Janeway in his bathroom.

After all these years, it’s nothing but pathetic.

He’s seen all of her countless times over. The smooth skin beneath the red and black of her captain’s uniform. The dusty cloud of freckles that fans across her collarbones and down over her breasts. The tense muscles dancing beneath her gray undershirt. 

They’ve lived at close quarters for almost six years now. He can tell what kind of day it is going to be by the look on her face in the morning. And yet Chakotay doubts he’ll ever find another woman who will set him on edge the way Kathryn Janeway does. There is no doubt about it. This woman will be the death of him.

When she emerges from his bathroom again a couple of minutes later – fresh and tidy, again wrapped in her bathrobe – Chakotay has had the foresight to put on a shirt and some loose pants. He hands her a fresh cup of coffee and she throws him a sheepish look over the rim of the cup as she takes a sip.

He never knows where the line is with her. Not even by a long shot. Their relationship has been blurred against a viewport of always unfamiliar stars. It’s mostly her who makes the rules anyway. This is no different.

Kathryn lowers her lashes as she steps into his personal space. Steaming coffee sloshing dangerously between them, her free hand falls directly to his ass, groping softly. Chakotay fails to suppress his sharp intake of breath. It’s way too early in the morning for him to be able to disperse the spell she has over him.

She presses against him, rising up on her feet, briefly catching his mouth with hers. She tastes of coffee and trepidation. Like she always does.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she rasps against his mouth and it makes the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation.

She’s gone before he knows it. He’s going to be late.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75), for the incredible beta!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime in season 1; when it is all still raw and hazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75) for also beat-ing this chapter!

***

Season 1

***

She isn’t a vain woman, though she almost always looks immaculate. He’s caught her fixing her hair a couple of times, after some hostile alien encounter has left them all shaken and slightly undone; strands of amber and gold pulled loose from their rigorous confinement.

She brushes her hair back from her face with unveiled annoyance now, her trembling fingers leaving a thin line of blood across her cheek. They’ve been under attack all morning. Another alien race wary of their borders being crossed. Another enemy hunting them across the sector.

She’s been adamant about it, of course, bordering only slightly on the arrogant side of diplomatic; enough to provoke an attack.

Chakotay watches her grit her teeth against the pain as she pulls herself up by the railing behind the conn. 

“Report!”

“Shields at twenty-two percent. Casualties are being reported from all decks,” Tuvok announces evenly from behind his station.

That last blast hit them dead center.

Chakotay stands by warily as she digs her nails into Paris’ shoulder. “Tom, can we go to warp?” The pilot flinches at her vigorous grip while he keys in the commands, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Full thrusters. Reverse course. Warp nine.”

She’s almost knocked off her feet yet again when the small tremor runs through the ship as it jumps to warp. Chakotay has suspected for a while now that she was injured more severely during that last attack than she has let on. Until now, he’s thought better of calling her on it.

She ungracefully crashes into the chair beside him. There is a cut on her forehead, right across the arch of her left eyebrow, blood dripping down the side of her face.

Chakotay shoots her a worried glance. After almost a year in the chair beside her, he has infinite trust in her ability to maneuver them out of whatever scenario they find themselves in. Her own limitations are a different story. She’s as relentless against herself as she is against their enemies. He hates to be the one mothering her, but she will forego proper meals for days in a row, fueled only by coffee and determination, if he doesn’t call her out on it. Apparently, the same applies with medical treatment.

As Janeway pushes an angry breath out between her lips, Chakotay tears his gaze from her and redirects his attention to the matter at hand.

“Three ships are in pursuit at warp six,” Kim reports, “If we make it back to the border, we might be able to outrun them.”

“Reroute auxiliary power to the thrusters,” Chakotay orders, effectively cutting off the captain beside him, “we can’t afford to drop out of warp now.” Janeway grits her teeth, jaw locked tightly in place as her left hand comes up to tug on her turtleneck, but she doesn’t comment. He’s learnt not to challenge her when she’s under pressure. She won’t leave the bridge as long as the ship is still in danger. Not as long as she’s still conscious, anyway.

The Vulcan, however, has a different take on it. He doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Captain,” comes Tuvok’s humming voice from behind them, “since you’ve been injured, may I suggest you to report to sickbay immediately.”

Janeway raises her hand to concede to his point, but she doesn’t actually turn around. “I’m fine, Tuvok,” she pushes through gritted teeth, “nothing the Doctor won’t be able to fix.”

Half an hour later their pursuers have broken off their attack. They were lucky this time. For now the ship is out of immediate danger. With broken bones and severe burns reported on all decks, the Doctor and Kes have their hands full in sickbay. Luckily, no-one was fatally injured.

Janeway finally pushes out of her seat on unsteady feet, forcing herself to stand up straight. Chakotay’s got to give her credit for her tenacity. She flinches slightly in the dim emergency lighting of the bridge, breathing shallow, but her voice, when it finally does come, is as steady as ever.

“Stand down red alert. Keep me advised.”

If he’s to take an educated guess, he figures she has at least one fractured rib. Maybe more. Chakotay has had his ribs broken. It’s like taking a knife to the side. Then again, it could just be her unparalleled defiance that propels her towards her ready room.

He follows on her heels on instinct, beyond pride or protocol. She grips her desk, breathing heavily as the door swooshes shut behind them. Chakotay stands a few feet away, hands to his hips, uncertain of how to proceed. She’s tough as nails and stubborn as hell. He’s never met a woman who subjects chance to the very force of her will as fiercely as Kathryn Janeway. But he’s also seen the slender woman beneath it, who’s extraordinarily good at hiding her pain. At times, it shines through her wide smile in cracks and pieces. An almost painful vulnerability he has yet to reconcile with their unfazed and untouchable captain.

He takes a measured step in her direction. 

“Save it, Commander.” She actually raises a hand at him, too. “I will go to sickbay once the Doctor has treated those more severely injured.” She sinks down on the steps that ascend to the seating area, clutching her ribcage with one hand, the silver railing with the other. “I’ve broken a rib,” she admits on a shaky exhale, the steel blue of her eyes glittering brightly against the dull artificial light of her ready room. The delicate arches of her eyebrows, now smudged over by dried blood, drawn together in silent defiance—

For a fraction of a second, the image is completely at odds with what he’s become accustomed to. She isn’t one to sit on the floor. In fact, he hasn’t witnessed her be anything but the graceful and immaculate Starfleet officer – a role she plays so very well. The tight clenching of his heart in his chest is a surprise even to himself. She won’t do them any good if she passes out in the middle of a firefight with a hostile alien race. Not that he won’t be able to handle the situation, but still—

And he gets it. If things had been reversed, and he were the one who had just cracked his head open on the conn railing, she wouldn’t leave his side either.

He’s retrieved the emergency med kit from behind her desk in three long strides.

Medical tricorder already flipped open, he sinks down beside her. 

Janeway huffs an annoyed breath between her lips, accompanied by a roll of her pale blue eyes – he expected no less – but bears his sudden scrutiny with rigid silence. Chakotay sweeps the instrument across her body, intruding slightly into her personal space.

He flips the tricorder shut. “From what I can tell, you’ve got two broken ribs, a fractured collar bone and a mild concussion.” There is no point in arguing with her. “You’ve got to go to sickbay,” he tries anyway.

Janeway’s left hand comes up to her turtleneck again. In one erratic movement, she yanks it off, together with her uniform jacket, tightly clenching her jaw to suppress the otherwise accompanying grunt. Beneath it, right across her left collar bone, he can already see the angry blue and purple bruises forming on her porcelain skin. There is something delicate about her in the grey regulation tank. Another contradiction. Beneath the red and black of her Starfleet uniform, she’s pale and lean and utterly feminine. As he averts his eyes, Chakotay finds himself sucking in another breath.

She groans in pain as she tosses her shirt to the side. He lightly touches her arm to draw her attention, mindful of the ranks between them. “Hey, take it easy, Captain.” His numb fingers linger on her skin of their own volition.

He reaches for the hypospray in the med kit – mostly to give his stray fingers a proper objective. He moves in without further consideration, gently pulling her jaw to the side to have more room to administer the hypospray, a cocktail of painkillers and a muscle relaxant. To his relief, Janeway complies without resistance. Her eyes fall shut as she leans into his touch. Still, Chakotay wills his fingers to withdraw.

He retrieves the dermal regenerator from the kit, gently cupping her chin again with his free hand to hold her still. Her eyelids flutter a couple of times, long delicate eyelashes sweeping across her pale cheeks – Chakotay is close enough he could count them – before she completely opens her eyes and meets his gaze again head-on.

For a heartbeat or two, he finds himself transfixed by the steel blue determination in them. Suddenly, it is not a contradiction anymore. Like all of them, she is as vulnerable as she is brave. She is as beautiful as she is compassionate. He would be lying to himself if he pretended he hadn’t noticed. And yet, dermal regenerator sweeping across the torn skin on her forehead, there could not be a worse time to get flustered by a woman’s long dark lashes and pale blue eyes.

Chakotay can see her eyes track the movement of his throat as he swallows. He’s almost managed to seal the cut on her forehead, fingers of his left hand still spread across her chin, when Paris’ voice filters in over the comm.  


“Bridge to Captain Janeway.”

She taps her badge without withdrawing from his hands.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.” 

“We are less than five hundred thousand kilometers from the border. They are hailing us.”

Janeway holds his gaze. 

“We’ll be right out, Tom.”

Finally, Chakotay lets go of her face. Janeway reaches for her uniform jacket. She’s on her feet again before he has a chance to help her up. He does not miss a beat as he follows her back out onto the bridge.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hours after the door re-opened, the captain has yet to regain her breath._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little moment post episode 25 season 6 'The Haunting of Deck Twelve'.
> 
> I'm having a blast with these two!

***

The Haunting of Deck Twelve

***

He’s startled from what feels like unconsciousness rather than actual sleep when the sound of his door chime rings through the quietness of his quarters. Padding through his dark living room on bare feet, he calls for her to enter.

She’s still in uniform after who knows how many hours. Or, half of it, that is; her jacket has long been discarded somewhere down in engineering when they were trying to get the environmental controls back online. Now the gray shirt underneath clings to her slender form, making her appear small in the darkness of his quarters. He knows her to be much larger than life, though.

It is as true today as on any of them. When the shuttle bay door hissed shut between them, there was a moment when he was certain he would never see her again. There is only blackness beyond that thought. No solace or familiarity ever again. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it then; he certainly won’t allow it now.

Kathryn Janeway is the only person he knows in the whole universe who will fight an alien life form down to her very last breath and then emerge on the other side by the sheer force of her will alone. She’d been furious beyond reason when the doors finally reopened. Shouting commands and coughing for hours on end despite the hypo the Doctor administered to soothe her burning lungs.

The exhaustion is visible on her pale face now as she reaches for an uneasy breath, chest rising and falling visibly with the effort.

“I’m sorry, Chakotay,” she says, voice barely above a hoarse whisper now, “I hoped you might still be awake,” she trails off, uncharacteristically uncertain about her intrusion.

Chakotay runs a tired hand across his neck, “That’s alright,” he tells her on the tail end of a sigh, “I’m awake now. What do you need?”

The inadvertent bluntness of his words makes her eyes snap to his. Unwavering piercing pale blue despite the darkness. It suddenly dawns on him that this isn’t a duty call. That she indeed does _need_ something from him. They haven’t crossed this particular line in quite some time; crossing it now appears to be as bad a time as any of them. Or maybe even worse.

He takes a small step in her direction on instinct, not yet reaching out. Despite her apparent vulnerability, her shoulders are set defiantly against the darkened bulkhead. He watches her struggle for another breath.  


“Kathryn?”

“I can’t breathe,” she presses on an inhale, her palm coming to rest across her heaving chest, and, as if to underscore the statement, she immediately starts coughing again. A dry and painful cough. Even worse than hours ago. He’s by her side in an instant, his own hand resting against the small of her back as she doubles over in the middle of his living room. He never should have left her side. Never should have stepped through the door in front of her.

He presses along her spine, feels her body heave and struggle against his hands as he follows her to the floor. Kneeling beside her, he waits for the fit to pass.

“Easy, Kathryn. Breathe,” he mumbles, close to her face now, “you’re going to be okay. Just breathe.”

She makes a torn sound somewhere between a cough and a sob, ever present frustration seeping back into her familiar features and he curls his other hand around her bicep. After another minute of coughing, hands and knees pressed to his living room floor, she finally catches her breath. Her chest is rising and falling with the effort as hot tears of pain burn their way down her cheeks unimpeded now. Her whole body is trembling, but at least the coughing seems to have subsided as her lungs drag in _Voyager’s_ cool artificial atmosphere.

He runs his hand up and down her back again. Feels the heat radiating from her body. She might be coughing and trembling and crying, but she’s alive beneath his palm, defiantly reaching for every measured inhale and exhale now. “You’re going to be okay, Kathryn,” he tells her again, his own heart clenching painfully in his chest. It is rare for her to share her pain so openly. Though, it is always palpable these days. Always has been, when he thinks about it clearly.

She finally hauls herself up on her heels, running the back of her hand across her sweat-covered forehead. Chakotay finds himself reaching out in an attempt to brush aside the stray strands of auburn hair plastered to her tear-stricken cheeks. She closes her eyes and struggles for another deep breath. She’s untouchable at times. Always close to the brink whenever he reaches out for her. It breaks his heart that she won’t always accept his tenderness. Even though he understands very well why. How all of them depend on her unyielding defiance out here, rely solely on her will to come through. Today proved that more than anything. However much he wishes he could take some her pain away – and he would give his own life in a heartbeat to do so – he knows she is the only one who can do it. Furious as hell and in pain and coughing for hours, but she will come through for them. Always.

He reaches for her arm again and pulls her to her feet.

“Come on, Kathryn. Get up.”

The captain braces her palm against his chest for support but lets herself be pulled up against him easily. He guides her over to his sitting area, her hand fisting in his loose shirt as he pushes her gently down on his couch. He pries her hand from his shirt and she watches through heavy eyelids as he retreats to the replicator to order a glass of water.

“Drink,” he tells her firmly. She takes the glass from him, fingers shaking only slightly, and takes a tiny sip before she sinks back down into the cushions, eyes already drifting shut. He thinks better than to leave the glass with her and puts it down on the table as he kneels beside her on the floor. He reaches out again, brushes another loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering. “Kathryn,” he says, tone a little lighter at her uncharacteristic impassiveness, “you can’t just sleep on my couch.”

At that, she opens her eyes, even cracks an amused eyebrow beyond heavy eyelids, some of her trademark swagger already creeping back into her features, and Chakotay can feel the heat radiating from her small body. “I’m the captain,” she says flatly in-between breaths, voice much more raspy than usual, “I’ll sleep wherever the hell I want.”

He raises both of his hands in mock acquiescence, relieved that she hasn’t lost her dry sense of humor despite the events of the day. But he won’t let her off so easily. He looks at her, serious again.

“You know you are always welcome here.”

Kathryn meets his gaze willingly and unguarded as she takes another shaky breath. She’s still slightly winded but the pale blue of her eyes is clear. She came through in the end. As she always does. She lifts a heavy hand and traces her index finger along the side of his temple, where his tattoo sits.

“Stay with me for a little while, Chakotay?” she asks, cool fingertips pressed to his skin, voice barely above a whisper.

Nevertheless, the question echoes loud and clear in his mind. He runs through a million possible answers. He doesn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. She already knows, he’d stay with her forever, if she asked.

“Of course,” he says softly, his own fingers trailing across her cheekbone again. “Now sleep.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much, _much_ improved thanks to the amazing beta of [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75)! Thank you!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay tells Janeway about 'Insurrection Alpha'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally watched "Worst Case Scenario". I imagine 'Insurrection Alpha' must have caused at least some confusion.
> 
> Updated with a thousand thanks to the wonderful [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75)! In the years to come, I know I will return to this story myself and be grateful to you! This is just so much better now! Thank you!!!

***

Worst Case Scenario

***

He stalls for just a second too long.

“Is there anything else?”

Chakotay shoots her a quick look as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. This is going to be awkward. Either way. He opts for being subtle.

“Actually, there is. Have you heard about the new holo-novel that is very popular among the crew right now?”

Janeway frowns. “You mean the one about the young woman who embarks on a journey to run a coffee farm in Nairobi on the brink of the First World War only to fall in love with a mysterious and enigmatic big-game hunter?”

She’s always been good at deflecting. Nevertheless, Chakotay tries – and fails – to hide a smile. It is beyond him how this woman, who stares down hostile aliens for a living, can be so fond of these silly romance holo-novels. Besides tactical simulations and occasional workout programs, they are the only thing he knows she runs.

“I believe that is the plot of _Out of Africa_.”

Kathryn beams at him from behind her desk, crystal blue eyes lighting up with almost girlish excitement. He’d die to see her as Karen Blixen. But she usually keeps her romantic endeavors on the holodeck to herself and that’s a line of thought he sure as hell is not ready to pursue.

“That’s the one,” she chirps nonchalantly before taking a sip of her coffee.

Chakotay runs a hand across the back of his neck. He’s going to have to spell it out for her. “No. I’m talking about a new program B’Elanna discovered only recently. It’s entitled ‘Insurrection Alpha’. Ring any bells?”

Janeway frowns again, yet this time it is clearly directed at him. She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“No. Should it?”

He takes a step closer to her desk, not exactly using his elevated position, but also brooking no argument.

“It’s about a Maquis mutiny on this very ship staged by one pissed off first officer,” he says as level as possible, never breaking eye contact with her.

Despite her peculiar fondness for romance holo-novels, Kathryn Janeway isn’t one to be intimidated easily. Or for being called out, for that matter. She rises from her chair without batting an eye, forcing him to back up a little despite his best intentions.

“A program like that would violate all kinds of privacy and personal protocols,” she says evenly.

At least she concedes that much. “It would indeed.”

She rounds the table, coming to a halt directly in front of him, standing a little too close, causing her to strain her neck to make up for their difference in height. Chakotay manages to stand his ground this time. But even after almost four years by her side he’s always taken aback by how she never shies away from confrontations. Even physical ones. He’s seen her do it a hundred times. Pushing in close towards aliens almost twice her size. In fact, this is how they met. Her pushing in close. Directly into his line of fire. Intruding into his personal space with her usual nerve no more than sixty seconds after their first encounter. She’s not provoking exactly. Eyes blazing with heat, she’s just impossible to avoid.

“You’re telling me there is a holographic scenario about you taking over my ship?” she asks, voice hard; like steel cutting through glass.

Chakotay holds her gaze. He isn’t quite sure his fictional counterpart made the wisest choice in drawing the wrath of Kathryn Janeway. They have yet to meet an enemy who doesn’t eventually bow to her iron kind of will, and he really isn’t sure he would’ve stood a chance against her, had it ever come to that. There is something unnerving about being at the center of her unflinching focus. Besides, her crew would never turn against her. She inspires devotion in people. Loyalty. _Love_. He knows he’s not the only one aboard this ship who would die for her in a heartbeat.

“That is what I’m telling you.”

“Did you run it?”

“I did.”

“How does it end?”

He’s never actually considered staging a mutiny against her. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind and sometimes he’s ready to admit to himself that she’s probably had him wrapped around her finger from the minute he set foot on her deck plate. He’s pretty sure she knows it, too. She’s already gambled with his loyalty, with his devotion more than once.

Chakotay fixes her with a gaze of his own.

“I don’t know. I haven’t finished it yet.”

She finally backs off and he releases the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. She leans against her desk, hands to her hips, suddenly appearing intrigued rather than angry.

“So? Who do you suppose wrote this program?”

That finally does take him by surprise. She usually isn’t one to beat around the bush. Chakotay sighs.

“Kathryn,” he says in exasperation, “there are only a handful of people on this ship with security clearance high enough to access the kind of information required to program such a detailed scenario.”

She crosses her arms again defensively. “And what? You think I wrote it? To plan for a worst case scenario?”

Chakotay stands up a little straighter. “The thought crossed my mind, yes.”

Kathryn surprises him yet again. Pushing away from her desk, immediately reaching out across the distance between them when she realizes what is going on. Her hand brushes along his arm, warm fingers trailing down the fabric of his uniform. Again, pushing in _close._

“Chakotay,” she says, eyes searching his, “I didn’t write a program like that, nor did I authorize one. And if I did, I would have told you about it by now.”

He immediately feels like an idiot. Of course she would have. And despite his unbroken devotion towards her, it would be ridiculous to expect the same from her. Of course she would have had to take certain precautions after making the very man she was sent to capture her first officer. No matter the bleakness of their situation, he _is_ a Maquis rebel, a traitor, despite the command red of his uniform.

Kathryn squeezes his arm, drawing his attention again, sensing his line of thought. “Chakotay,” she insists again sternly, and he’ll never be tired of the way she says his name when she wants to convince him of something. “I trust you with my life. You know that. That is all that matters.”

She’s close. Impossible to avoid. Impossible to resist. Impossible not to believe when she is like this. Chakotay licks his lips.

“That begs the question. Who wrote this program?”

Kathryn raises an eyebrow at him, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. She pulls on his uniform jacket, where her hand still rests on his arm.

“Let’s check it out,” she says, and he can’t help but follow her through the door.

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing her ship, twice, Janeway _bootycalls_ Chakotay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now also improved! [coffeeblack75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75), I could not have asked for a more thoughtful beta!!! You hit exactly the right note in this and just knew what to look for in the weird bi-lingual mess my grammar can be! Thank you so much! I love this story and I love that you were so careful with this!

***

Basics: Part 2

***

She puts the book down with an exasperated sigh and shifts in her seat uneasily. Mr. Darcy’s customary insolence is doing absolutely nothing to soothe the frayed ends of her nerves. She’s read the damn book about a dozen times by now. At least a handful of times onboard Voyager alone. It usually relaxes her. No surprises there – he’s too proud, she judges too quickly; nothing that can’t be fixed by a dramatic argument about one’s proper place in society.

But today isn’t the day.

She runs a hand across her eyes. She’s tired. The past weeks are a blur of dust and defiance. She’s lost her ship. Twice. And while the second time was like staring down a bottomless abyss in bleak terror, the first time is now nothing but a frenzy of wistful hope and heated desperation. She’s getting the feeling lately that she’s not been handling things well. Not the ship – surprisingly, the ship is fine. Even her quarters are finally back in order after the Kazon wrecked the whole place. There are just some things that need to be sorted out. Things that she has not been handling at all.

Chakotay seems to be doing much better. Never too far, never _too close_. Always exactly where she needs him to be. Solid and unwavering. She feels his eyes linger, even his touch. But he hasn’t tried to blur the lines again.

She doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Kathryn shifts in her seat again. She vividly remembers the feeling of smooth skin beneath wet fingertips, the smell of peppermint and sawdust, forceful and raw. She remembers the sounds he makes when he comes – panting and groaning above her, voice strained. Not having to be quiet definitely had been one of the perks of being the only two people on an entire planet.

She’s hit her comm badge before she has a chance to mull it over properly.

“Janeway to Chakotay.”

His answer, despite the late hour, is immediate.

_“Chakotay here. What can I do for you, Captain?”_

If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought he’d been waiting for her to comm him. She suddenly feels a flush of heat creep across her neck. _Smug bastard_.

“I know it’s late. Sorry. Guess I just wanted to check in with you.”

She raises a hand to her temple to keep from babbling. She hasn’t thought this through at all.

_“I’m fine. Ship’s fine. Just finishing up on some reports before turning in. Did you know the Kazon recalibrated the deflector dish? How did they even know how to do that?”_

She can hear the smile in his voice. Warm and easy.

“I did,” she says triumphantly, grateful for the momentary distraction, “I guess they are just resourceful little buggers.”

She hears his laugh across the comm link. _“One more day and the ship would’ve been in excellent shape.”_

Kathryn rolls her eyes at her image of him. Smooth and relaxed in the half-light of his living room. “Or in much worse shape.”

It’s now or never –

She pushes a breath between her lips. “I’ve been thinking, Chakotay, with all that’s been happening lately, we’ve barely had any chance to … catch up.”

 _There._ That sounded reasonable enough. Not too much of a come-on but enough to get the point across.

She’s met with silence as she holds her breath.

She can picture him so clearly. Eyebrows drawn together in confusion then shooting up on his forehead as the meaning behind her words finally registers. She can hear him clear his throat.

 _“Kathryn,”_ he says slowly with only a slight strain to the sound of her name on his lips. It sends a shiver up her spine. _“With everything that’s happened lately, I wasn’t sure you’d want to ... catch up.”_

Her heart is beating so loud below her ribcage, she fears he might hear it over their comm link. Which is ridiculous. This is _Chakotay_ , not a Kazon warlord. Besides, they’ve done this before. Kathryn goes for broke.

“I do now.”

She hears his breath catch on the other end of their link, but he reels himself back in. When he speaks again, there is a distinct smugness to his voice.

_“That bad, huh?”_

“Chakotay,” she warns on the far end of a sigh, “don’t make me regret this any more than I already do.” She’s never lied to him. She won’t start now. Not about this. All things considered, this is a _very_ bad idea and they’ll have to talk about this eventually. But tonight, she doesn’t want to talk.

She hears a rustle from the other side of the link – presumably him getting up. _“Trust me,”_ he says, voice steady as ever, no trace of his previous cockiness, _“You won’t.”_

***


End file.
